Insurance
by Emma15
Summary: A plotless piece of fluff in the Beer 'verse. Laundry becomes an issue.


**Disclaimer**: I do not own Supernatural.

**Author's Note**: Wow! Thank you all so much for your reviews of "Time for a Visit." Here is that other snit-bit I mentioned. I would place this before "Time for a Visit" in chronology.

I hope you enjoy this one as well!

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"Leave it here."

Dean frowned, "It's dirty. It's covered in grass and mud."

"We do laundry here."

The older man nodded, giving his little brother a curious look, "Yeah, so do I. Give me my shirt." He stated, extending out his arm.

"Just leave it, it's my turn to do laundry next anyway and I don't mind..."

"Well, _I _do. I like that shirt. It's my favorite t-shirt."

Sam nodded, "Exactly, the sooner it gets washed the better. That way it won't stain."

"I can wash it soon."

"You just said you were going Arkansas."

"I can probably find a laundromat between here and Arkansas, Sammy."

"But you won't have time to stop."

"I might. Give me my shirt." Dean hissed, starting to get pissed off. He took a step forward and wrapped his hand around the end hanging from Sam's hand.

"Leave it here."

"Let go, Sam."

"Don't be a pain about this..."

"_I'm _being a pain?" Dean asked incredulously, then scowled, "Let go of my shirt."

"No."

Dean tugged it. Sam held it firmly.

"Sam," he said warningly.

"Just leave it..."

"I said no... let go..."

Sam shook his head, "No."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Dean asked, "It's a freakin _shirt! _ He hissed and yanked it towards himself.

Sam scowled and yanked it back, "Exactly! Just a shirt! Leave it!"

"It's **MY** shirt! Let go!"

The door opened suddenly and they both turned. Jess and Kerrie were coming in each holding binders. Jess smiled, then frowned at them.

They were standing in the living room, both obviously having showered after their game of football in the park; Dean's bags packed and waiting at his feet while each brother held an end of a t-shirt.

"Are we interrupting something?" she asked.

"Could you tell your neurotic, husband-to-be that I'm perfectly capable of doing my own fuckin laundry!"

Jess's eyes widened and her eyebrows shot to her hairline; she took a step back and bumped into Kerrie.

"Could you tell your obtuse, brother-in-law-to-be that it's a just a fuckin shirt!"

"Could you tell Mr. PMS that--"

"YEAH... _okay..._" Jess interrupted, "I'll take that as a resounding YES..." she finished, taking several quick steps back and pushing Kerrie backwards towards the door, "Let's go..." she whispered to the other girl.

"So _that's _what it looks like..." Kerrie stated looking over Jess's shoulder as the other girl maneuvered her back to the front door. She was looking back and forth between the brother's avidly, "It _does _look like there'll be bloodshed..."

"Shhhhh, let's just go..." Jess whispered, "It's safer..."

"But..."

"_Go... _before they pull us into it..."

"We're right here." Sam stated.

"We can hear you." Dean chirped.

Jess bestowed a deadpan look on them, before shoving Kerrie through the doorway. The door was almost closed when she poked her head back in, "There better _not _be bloodshed. I just vacuumed."

Then she shut the door.

The room was silent for a moment.

Neither brother had released his side of the shirt.

"I'm not neurotic." Sam defended a moment later.

"Dude. You want my dirty clothes... that's gotta be some weird-ass type of neurosis..."

Sam scowled and opened his mouth, but Dean continued, "And I'm not obtuse," he hissed.

Sam snorted and rolled his eyes.

Dean took a deep breath, "I was trying to not resort to violence and use my words like Jess suggested, but seriously Sam... let go of my fuckin shirt or I'm gonna hafta _take _it from you."

"Christ Dean! But you're not dense right?" Sam hissed the question.

"What the hell are you _talking _about?"

"It's not about the goddamned shirt!"

"Then what the hell **IS** it about!"

Sam released a frustrated sigh and ran his free hand through his hair, dropping his gaze to floor, "I just..." he began, but trailed off.

"You just _what?" _Dean asked softly, "I'm trying _hard _to chill here, Sam, but for christssake it's **MY** shirt." He finished in exasperation.

There was a pause and then, "Arkansas is far."

Slowly, Dean drew in a deep breath, "Okay, yeah... so what?"

Sam's gaze lifted to meet his, "So leave the shirt here and I'll wash it... and then you can have it back on your next visit."

Their gazes held for a long moment when Dean suddenly rolled his eyes and dropped his end of the shirt, "Is **THAT** it... jeez..." he murmured in exasperation tinged affection, "You're such a dork."

Color flushed Sam's face as he shrugged a little, but Dean continued before he could say anything, "I said I'd visit. I'll visit. You don't need insurance."

Sam's gaze dropped, but he said nothing.

Dean bent down and rummaged through his duffel bag. A moment later he stood; a grin on his face as he shoved a load of clothing towards Sam, "Here..." he murmured, hazel eyes glinting, "... you can keep the boxer shorts; now gimme back my goddamned t-shirt..." He finished, yanking the shirt out of Sam's now full arms.

"Oh **GROSS!**"

Dean laughed.

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End file.
